


In Service

by DarklyDreamingDixon



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Collars, Comeplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Leashes, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Obedience, Ownership, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Rutting, Service Submission, Sex Slave, Spanking, Zombie Apocalypse, licking the floor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 04:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5992378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarklyDreamingDixon/pseuds/DarklyDreamingDixon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is a sex slave for all the men in the prison and Rick is his master.</p><p>
  <em>Soon enough all the women and children had perished and Rick and Daryl were the only ones left from their original group, living in the prison with over four dozen other men, some from Woodbury and others that just straggled in over the months. It was too much testosterone. Too many alpha personalities. Too much energy and tension to control.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Service

They'd been at the prison for three long years and Daryl had been a prisoner for two. A willing prisoner. He belonged to Rick. In a sense he's always belonged to Rick. Since the moment they met, Rick took control of him with those dusk blue eyes, the confidence of his voice, the commanding tilt of his head. He followed Rick's every word for over a year before they got to the prison. And then continued to obey him after they arrived, ever since the earliest days at their new home- the dark days. Days of the flu epidemic that took out dozens. Survivors came and went, but they mostly went and the prison graveyard grew.

Soon enough all the women and children had perished and Rick and Daryl were the only ones left from their original group, living in the prison with over four dozen other men, some from Woodbury and others that just straggled in over the months. It was too much testosterone. Too many alpha personalities. Too much energy and tension to control.

Daryl was in his cell. Locked in. More for his protection than to protect anyone from him. Daryl wouldn't hurt anyone. It wasn't his role. His role was to serve the community. To serve Rick.

It all started with Rick. He had been losing his mind during the dark days and Daryl had been there for him emotionally. And when that wasn't enough, he got on all fours and offered himself physically. Offered himself for Rick to take, to seek some release and relief and it worked. 

Daryl felt worth. Felt like he was an important piece of the puzzle because he was giving their leader what he needed to heal. To lead with a clear mind. But when the women died off and the last of the children were gone, Rick faced a prison full of men who also needed release in order to keep from turning violent.

Daryl volunteered. He offered himself to the community and Rick fought the offer for days. Daryl was his. But the fighting wouldn't stop. The killing. The power and control and unrest. It was Rick’s prison but he was losing control of it. The men needed release- they needed Daryl.

The once-hunter, now servant, lay on his cot naked, save for a thick black collar around his neck. When Daryl was allowed to leave the cell, Rick made sure he was on a leash. Again, this was more for Daryl's safety than anyone else's. 

When the arrangement started there was no order to it. And some of the men would swarm Daryl, sweeping him away in a flurry of bodies eager to release aggression. Once, after weeks of the unorganized reward of Daryl started, he had disappeared from Rick for hours during one of those swarms. Rick killed three men that night, one as he was literally inside of Daryl and the new rules were then born.

Every man in the community must contribute to the common good by either   
providing goods through hunting or runs   
providing services to the community including cooking, digging graves, fence repairs, automotive maintenance or clearing walkers.   
All men must provide services to the community at least every other day or they will be forced to leave the protection of the prison.   
All goods that were provided to the community were to be formally checked in at the pantry. When supplies were submitted to the pantry, any contributions that were estimated to feed at least four people for seven days would get the provider of those provisions on The List. 

Everyone knew number two was a death sentence so all the survivors pitched in to keep the prison running. And everyone wanted to get on The List, so the community thrived as all the able bodied men risked their lives daily to provide enough for the group to survive. The List was Daryl’s list. The list of men whom Daryl would bend over to serve that evening. 

Daryl could barely remember how it all really evolved. Days in the apocalypse passed much slower than the days from before. Especially for Daryl. So two years felt like much, much more. He spent every long, dull day from sun up to sun down alone in his cell. Rick visited when he could during the day, but most of Daryl’s activities took place after dark. Rick did sleep with him and joined him for meals. That was Daryl’s reward. Rick’s company and his praise and his love. He always had that to look forward to when he was trying to escape himself during the middle hours. The middle hours were when Daryl served. 

There were between 50-60 survivors with them now. All men. All driven to get on The List each day. The community never hungered because the reward for supplying food was sweet enough to keep nearly all of them engaged in providing. On any given day, Daryl could have anywhere between five to twenty men lined up outside the small private room where he offered his ass in reward. It had become so routine for everyone that it almost operated like an assembly line.

Rick's boots clicked down the long hallway where Daryl was kept far from the others. Daryl knew that sound and it made his cock harden in the same trained way that Pavlov's dogs salivate. Daryl did not enjoy serving everyone, but he enjoyed serving Rick. And his leader’s boots coming down the hallway at dusk meant dinner and alone time. It meant Rick would be with him for the rest of the evening.

Rick’s boots came to a stop in front of the cell and he pulled back the thin sheet that hung over it. No one had access to this block, but the sheet gave Daryl a little sense of privacy. Daryl waited naked each day for Rick to come to him. No clothing, just his collar and an anal plug. 

Daryl sucked at the tip of his thumb, a nervous habit that had started as nail biting and morphed into something between that and flat-out thumb-sucking. Rick was the same but not the same since Daryl began serving the community. He struggled with the guilt over Daryl’s decision to play this role. He struggled with the loss of his children and with the constant burden of being in charge. His eyes were less alive these days than they used to be. Some days were better days than others for Rick. He was in uniform because he felt it was a good visual for the men to remember there was order here. Rules, order and punishment. The community referred to him as officer. But Daryl had started calling him Master at some point, not even able to recollect when that started.

“How’s my good boy?” Rick asked. 

“‘M good. How many tonight, Master?”

“Seven, baby,” Rick said as he opened the cell door and walked inside, a tray of food in one hand. His face was passive. He didn’t smile much anymore. When he did, it was one of the best rewards Daryl could get. But tonight Rick looked tired. He sat on the bottom bunk that they shared and Daryl moved to his leader’s feet, kneeling before him, his head nuzzling against Rick’s cock as the officer pet Daryl’s hair like he was a much-loved household pet. Daryl loved it. Loved being petted each evening. Loved feeling affectionate touches like this from his owner. Because that’s what Rick was. His lover. His Master. His owner. He belonged to Rick in a way most people never experienced in life. It was complete and total. 

“Are you going to eat for me like a good boy?” Rick asked, fingers carding through Daryl’s too-long hair.

Daryl nodded. “If you want me to. I only want to do what makes you happy,” Daryl answered. He knew his place. Knew he was important to the community to keep the peace. But Daryl’s personal priority was always making Rick happy. Making him proud. Making him come. Obeying anything he wanted. 

“Course I want you to, good boy. Need to keep you big and strong, right?”

Daryl nodded, his head still resting against Rick’s hardening cock. “You gonna eat by yourself or do you want me to feed you?” 

Rick asked every night. And Daryl never answered. In the early days of Daryl’s servitude, he’d been sick from his body being used so hard. Stomach aches from the rough hands and hard use before the rules and the processes were in place. He wouldn’t eat and Rick had to hand feed him. Daryl liked that. It meant that Rick would sit with him and pay total attention to him. Daryl wanted to be obedient to his leader. If Rick wanted him to eat by himself he would tell Daryl so. But it was always an option and Daryl always wanted Rick to feed him. He was alive because of Rick. Protected. Cared for. He only wanted what Rick gave him and it worked that way quite literally during meals. 

“Nevermind,” Rick said, giving Daryl a sad smile. “I know you want to eat from my hand. I want to make you as happy as I can too, sweet one. Will it make you happy if I feed you?”

Daryl nodded. 

“What do you say, good boy?”

“Yes, please, Master. I only like to eat what you give me.” Daryl backed away from Rick’s crotch and looked longingly at the plate of food. Fresh carrots from the garden and some kind of stewed meat. Daryl did miss hunting. Providing. But he knew there were plenty of able bodies to do that. No one could do what Daryl did now. It would break them. But Daryl was strong enough to handle it every day. Rick plucked a chunk of meat off the plate and Daryl opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue like he was waiting for communion. Rick placed it on his tongue and Daryl chewed it thoroughly and swallowed. Rick alternated placing the meat on his tongue with fingers and spooning the carrots to Daryl like a baby. 

They kept eye contact the whole time, Rick’s eyes on Daryl like a warm blanket in winter. Cozy and comfortable and warm. Mealtimes were Daryl’s favorite time of day. After the last bite, Rick put the empty tray aside. 

“Did you put your plug in at noon?” Rick always asked the question even though Daryl never, ever once forgot. He needed to be ready for the evening activities. It would only hurt Daryl if he were to forget. Daryl nodded. “Let me see,” Rick ordered.

Daryl turned on his hands and knees and allowed Rick to examine his ass, the end of the thick black plug sticking out as it always was. Rick rubbed over Daryl’s backside. “Good boy. You are so important. You do such a good job for me and I’m so proud of you every single day. You know that don’t you my good boy?”

Daryl turned back, sat up on his knees and smiled softly at Rick. “Yes, Master. I always want to make you proud.”

“You do, baby. Every day. You do everything thing I ask of you.” Rick cupped Daryl’s face with his hand and rubbed his cheek with a rough thumb. “Tell me you know you don’t have to do this,” Rick said. It was ritual. Part of the daily routine. Rick needed to know every time that Daryl was making a conscious choice to serve. 

“I know I don’t have to do this, Master. But I’m yours and you need me to help keep the peace. I want to give you what you need.”

Rick nodded. “You ready to show me how much you can take? How strong you are?”

“Yes, Master.” 

Rick stood and took a leash off the hook on the wall. It was blue like Daryl’s eyes. He clicked it onto the collar and then tied on the blindfold. Early on, when Daryl knew the other survivors, the blindfold was to protect identities. Now it was just part of the routine. After so long away from the general population, Daryl didn’t really know anyone anymore and he didn’t care who was fucking him. It was just his job to take it and he held no ill will against anyone that was seeking relief. Then Daryl felt Rick’s hands on his soft cock. Petting it before he felt the familiar confines of the cock cage locking into place. 

“You still want this?” Rick asked.

“Yes,” Daryl answered. He did not like the times his body betrayed him and he grew hard from the other men. He wanted to suffer through it. He didn’t want to allow himself to enjoy anyone but Rick. The cock cage made it impossible for him to grow hard or come. And that’s exactly how Daryl wanted it.

Rick stood. “Remember, stay on your hands and knees. If you stand with the blindfold you might fall.”

There was a long corridor before they would reach the room where Daryl served. Daryl crawled down it on the leash beside Rick as instructed. On hands and knees, blindfolded, with the cock cage clunking back and forth against his thighs. Daryl often wondered why Rick bothered with the blindfold all the way back in their cell instead of just waiting till he was put in place for the evening. He wouldn’t see anyone. He entered the special room from the back side of the cell block and the others came in from a door on the gen pop side. Daryl never saw the common areas of the prison. 

Ultimately he figured Rick liked having Daryl submissive, literally on his hands and knees. Liked watching him crawl down the hall. So Daryl was happy to do it without question. Daryl hadn’t seen another member of the group for 682 days. Daryl knew the days because sometimes he counted things to find something to do with his mind. He also knew how many steps it took for them to get from their cell to the breeding room. It was 47. The men had started calling it the breeding room back in the days before Daryl was properly separated and the rules were in place, so that was still the name in Daryl’s head. But it very well could be something different now. Daryl didn’t know because he also hasn’t spoken to another member of the group for 682 days. 

When they walked in, Daryl stood and leaned over the table with Rick’s help. Rick cuffed his wrists to the far table legs and his ankles to the ones he stood closest too. Once Rick confirmed that he was strapped in place, blindfolded and his cock was locked away, he went behind him and tugged out the plug. 

“Just seven tonight, good boy. Are you ready to let them fuck you?”

“Yes, Master,” Daryl answered. Daryl shut down automatically at the sound of the door opening. The first man on the list entered and Rick took his place at the end of the table his hands stroking through Daryl’s hair. “You can do this, good boy,” Rick whispered. “You are their reward. You are so important and your ass is so nice and tight that these men work their fingers to the bone to bury themselves inside you. Even for just a few minutes.”

Daryl heard the sounds of lube being squeezed and the slapping sound of a hard cock being stroked and coated in slick. He felt two cold hands on his thighs. Then just one as the other hand was lining up the cock to plunge into Daryl without the need for prep thanks to the plug Daryl wore every afternoon. He could hear the groaning from behind him and he counted thrusts as Rick coo’d to him. “That’s my good boy.” _One._ “Look at how you can take it.” _Two._ “You’ll get a reward too later on, baby.” _Three._ “If you please everyone that will please me.” _Four._ “Do you like to please me, sweet one?” _Five._

Daryl continued to count even though part of his attention stayed on Rick’s words. He was always paying attention for questions that required him to answer. “Yes. I want to make you proud that I can take it. That I can be fucked every night however many times you need me to.” He heard a loud groan and felt the release deep inside him. _Ten._

“Alright OUT!” Rick shouted, startling Daryl. “Next!”

First man on the list. Ten thrusts. The next came in and everything repeated. Second man on the list. Fourteen thrusts. And Daryl counted as he pictured a hunting trip, each thrust was a bolt through a squirrel. He tried to picture the trees. To remember what the woods smelled like. To remember the sound of squirrel chatter and deer hoofing through brush.

The seventh and final man came in twelve thrusts and Rick dismissed him quickly, slamming and locking the door that led out to the common area. First man- ten thrusts, second man- fourteen thrusts, third man- twenty thrusts, fourth man- eight thrusts, fifth man- ten thrusts, sixth man sixteen thrusts, seventh man- twelve thrusts. Daryl did the math in his head. Twenty-four, forty-four, fifty-two, sixty-two, seventy-eight, ninety. Rick quickly uncuffed Daryl’s hands and then his feet and then Daryl slipped to the ground. Rick helped him steady himself up on hands and knees as he slipped the blindfold off and Daryl felt seven loads of come pouring out of his ass. 

Rick’s eyes were half-vacant and half-lustful. Daryl knew that despite how much Rick didn’t want to be turned on by Daryl’s complete and total supplication, he was. Rick always appeared to be fighting an inner moral battle that he was forever losing. Daryl tried to let Rick know, in as many ways as he could, that he loved serving his Master. He loved being owned and ruled by Rick. Obeying made him happy. Daryl loved doing anything Rick asked even if it was humiliating. Daryl was more than used to humiliation at this point. But Rick was always fighting an inner turmoil that Daryl knew little about. Some days Rick was soft and affectionate. Others he treated Daryl cold and more like property. Daryl was happy with either way. Whatever Rick needed, Daryl would give. Whatever Rick offered, Daryl would take. Rick WAS his owner. He owned his heart and soul and body just mere months after they met. And he still did. 

“Will you be a good boy for your Master and lick up the mess on the floor that’s spilling out of you? Don’t want anyone to slip, now, do we?”

“No Master. I’m happy to clean it up for you,” Daryl answered quickly and he backed up and licked at the floor, the taste of bitter come and dirty boots alive on his tongue. He continued to drip for nearly ten minutes and he turned back and forth to continually lap up what slipped out of him until he was completely done dripping. 

When Rick saw he was done he petted Daryl’s head and Daryl nuzzled into the touch. “You are a good boy. I’m so proud that you can take so much cock and still clean up after yourself. So good.” 

Daryl was proud. He was happy. The worst part of his day was over. And the rest of the night, Rick would be with him. And this was a good night for Rick. He was mellow and sorta zoned out. Not all nights were this good. Rick had bad days like everyone had bad days and just as this arrangement originally started, Daryl existed first and foremost to serve Rick. So if Rick was angry, or slipped into his special kind of crazy, Daryl would willingly take whatever came his way. He knew any version of Rick he got still loved him. But he did occasionally wonder as Rick called him his sweet one and his good boy, if his Master even remembered his name. Not that it mattered- Daryl was still his. And this night was going to be extra good because he could tell this was the softer Rick. The affectionate one. The one who would take him back to their cell, make sure Daryl was pleasured just as much as any of the others and he would let Daryl curl up to sleep however he was most comfortable. Usually his preference was to fall alseep with Rick’s soft cock resting against his head. Or better yet, fall asleep with it in his mouth, keeping Rick’s flaccid member warm against his tongue, lips parted and drooling as he slept. 

For all the servicing he did at the prison, the only cock that was allowed to see the back of Daryl’s throat was Rick’s and Daryl liked that a part of him was off limits. It made taking Rick’s cock like that incredibly intimate. Special.

Rick opened the hall door that led back to Daryl’s cell block. “You have to pee? You wanna go outside?” Rick asked and Daryl nodded excitedly. It wasn’t every day, but on occasion, Rick would ask this in the hall and that meant Daryl would get walked outside to relieve himself instead of having to use the urinal in their cell. 

Rick smiled at Daryl as he led him, Daryl still on all fours, past their cell to the far end of the block, down a staircase that was difficult to maneuver on his hands and knees and out a side door to a small, walled yard. Daryl craned his neck to soak in the starry night above him and he sniffed hard to take in the smell of green grass and fresh air. He enjoyed the feel of the soft earth against his knees and his palms instead of the hard concrete floors in the prison. Rick unleashed him and unlocked and removed the cock cage. The outside area was well-protected and very small and he sat back against one wall watching Daryl in the moonlight find a spot to relieve himself. He tried to use the same corner all the time and he could see the grass yellowing there. 

Before Daryl’s ass was open for everyone, when he belonged solely to Rick in every way, Rick had been fairly dominant and had asked that Daryl not ever touch himself. Rick wanted Daryl’s cock to be his only. Rick never mentioned it again but Daryl chose to keep that as a life-long rule. When he was ready to relieve himself, he lifted one leg and balanced on a knee trying to aim as best he could away from himself without touching. 

“Good boy,” Rick called over and Daryl even found pride in taking a piss when Rick praised him like that. They walked back in, Daryl back on the leash but the cock cage shoved unceremoniously in Rick’s pocket.

“Such a good boy for me tonight. Did you count your number?”

“Yes, Master,” Daryl answered as they re-entered their cell. 

“How many, baby?”

“Ninety.”

“Hands and knees or do you want to climb up here on my lap?” Rick asked as he undressed for bed. This was not Rick’s requirement. It was Daryl’s. He liked doing the counting. He liked offering his entrance for the good of the community. He liked making Rick so proud. But he was Rick’s and he wanted to be punished for each thrust he received every day that wasn’t a thrust from Rick. He felt it made things right. Yin and yang. Give and take. 

Before Daryl was the official prison sex slave, when he was only Rick’s, the two explored Daryl’s kink for spanking. He got off on it more than he got off on being penetrated. Taking it in the ass was his duty now. His job. And he took Rick like that too, whenever his Master wanted it that way. But Daryl rarely came from being fucked. He usually only came from being held in his Master’s arms and jerked off to orgasm, or he would come from the spankings and the words that fell off Rick’s tongue as he administered the punishment. Ninety was a good number. Enough that he could blank out and think his way to orgasm just from the sharp pain of Rick’s palm on his fleshy backside and the sound of his Master’s voice. His best orgasms were from the spankings in his Master’s lap. His cock hard and getting just the lightest bit of friction against Rick’s thigh with each smack. 

Daryl didn’t always have a choice. He was the one that wanted the spankings and he was glad that Rick was willing to always comply. But the way they were administered was usually up to Rick. But Daryl had been a very good boy tonight. And his reward was a choice. 

“In your lap, Master.” Daryl finally answered.

“Come on up then, sweet one,” Rick said and Daryl climbed up on the bed. Rick slid back to lean against the wall and Daryl positioned himself in his proper spot. “You’ll keep count for me, baby? I hate counting,” Rick said. 

“Yes, Master. I like counting for you.”

“I know you do, baby,” Rick coo’d. Without warning, Rick rose a hand and swatted hard against Daryl’s ass. The sting of it echoing down the empty hallway. 

“One,” Daryl gasped. And he was at peace. Counting and feeling the sharp stings of pain. His cock rocking gently into Rick’s bare thigh with each smack. Rick murmuring praise above him. Telling Daryl how beautiful his ass was when it was red and swollen. How pretty it was to see Rick’s handprint so clear. How good a job Daryl was doing as he counted. 

Rick’s swings were slow. The evening ritual of spanking was always drawn out. Daryl was so close with every rock of his pelvis against Rick. 

“I don’t want you to come yet, baby.” Rick said. “Can you be a good boy and hold back for me? We just changed the sheets. If you would have chosen to receive your punishment tonight on your hands and knees you’d probably be coming now, sweetheart. But you probably didn’t consider the sheets, did you?”

“No, Sir. I didn’t think about it,” Daryl said after counting the sixty-seventh smack. “I’m so sorry, Master.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweet boy. It doesn’t hurt me any. But I feel bad for you because I know how much you love to come like this.”

“I can control myself, Master. I won’t come. You’ll be proud.” _Sixty-eight._

“You never disappoint me. You are so good. I couldn’t ask for a better boy than you.”

 _Seventy-two._

Rick paused to rub Daryl’s ass. It was nearly numb now and his cock was swollen and throbbing. Each smack was a fight to keep his orgasm at bay.

“Tell you what. It’s not your fault you didn’t think about the sheets. Your job isn’t to think. That’s my job. Your job is to do. And you are so good at your job, aren’t you baby?”

“I try to be so good at my job, Master. I want to please you.” _Eighty-four._

“You do please me. So when we get to ninety, you can slide off the bed and rut against my leg like you like. You can watch me as I jerk myself off to the sight of you. Does that sound nice, sweet one?”

“Oh yes. Yes,” Daryl groaned. _Ninety._ Daryl slid off the bed, his ass numb, his legs like jelly and he slid his hard cock against Rick’s calf, gripping on like an unneutered dog and he quickly began rutting. 

“You look so sweet like that, baby,” Rick said, his hand already wrapped around his own rock hard cock, stroking it hard and fast. “You can come anytime you want. You have my permission.” Daryl instantly shot a load against Rick’s leg as soon as he was granted permission. He squeezed his eye shut just as he felt the wet, hot streaks of come from Rick’s orgasm spitting against his parted lips, his cheeks and his nose. Both men slowed their movements until they were still except for two pairs of lungs gasping for breath.

Daryl stayed put, waiting for direction. “You have a lot to clean up, love,” Rick said softly. “Use your hand and scoop all of me into your mouth.” Daryl obeyed eagerly. His face was still sticky, but he knew Rick would clean him so the sheets would not get dirty in the evening. Daryl was still latched tightly to Rick’s leg.

“Now take care of my leg.” Daryl backed away and licked himself off of his Master. Rick got a wet rag and finished cleaning off Daryl’s softened cock and belly and wiped his face off more thoroughly. After Rick cleaned him, he gently pushed Daryl up to lay his chest against the bed so he could examine his backside. 

“Such pretty purples from last night and reds from today. I can almost see the small lines of my finger prints. Beautiful like a painting in an art gallery,” he said as he rubbed gently over Daryl’s beaten ass. “Bruises are so pretty on you.”

“Thank you, Sir, for giving them to me. I’m so proud to have your handprints on me. Everyone can see them so they won’t forget that I belong to you.”

“That’s right, baby. Think you can handle it all over again tomorrow, good boy?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Come on up for cuddles before bed.” Rick ordered and Daryl climbed into Rick’s lap as his Master held him like a baby and kissed at his forehead, hands rubbing briskly against Daryl’s always exposed skin. Daryl knew he had goose bumps and Rick was lovingly trying to rub them away. “Is there anything else I can give you tonight, baby? So you’ll know how much I love and appreciate you. So you’ll know how special you are to me?”

Daryl sucked at the tip of his thumb and nodded his head. Rick smiled as he held Daryl’s head to his chest. “Ah, yes. You didn’t get to suck my cock at all tonight, my poor sweet thing. Would you like to fall asleep with it in your mouth?” 

“Yes, Master. Very much.”

“Why do you love my cock so much? You have cock every day. Nearly a hundred times a week. What makes mine so special that you need to fall asleep with it like it’s your pacifier and teddy bear all rolled into one?”

“Cause it’s yours Master. And your cock is what gives you pleasure and the only thing I want to do with every breath in my lungs is to serve you and give you pleasure. And my mouth is yours. It’s my special place no one else is allowed to go. So I want you to have it as often as you can.”

“You’re sweet, my dear one,” Rick whispered as he lifted Daryl carefully off his lap and the two resituated on the bed. Daryl crunched himself up toward the bottom so that his face was at Rick’s pelvis and he opened his mouth and held out his tongue, waiting patiently for Rick to get settled and to gently place his flaccid cock in Daryl’s mouth.

And Daryl drifted off the sleep. Lips parted, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth, arms wrapped loosely around one of Rick's legs. Rick gently carded through his hair. “I love you, Daryl,” Rick whispered as his sweet boy fell asleep.


End file.
